


The War Horn Sounds

by Sargerogue



Series: The Line of Wanderers [12]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, M/M, The battle begins, The only people that die are those that deserve it, so Azog and Bolg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-18 02:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16108889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sargerogue/pseuds/Sargerogue
Summary: War approaches Erebor.





	1. 10-9-2941, Erebor

**Author's Note:**

> Yes it's a fix-it, get over it. I suck at battle sequences so it's brushed over heavily. Imagine your own bits to fill in where you want. Ooh, Arkenstone has a new purpose. It was an idea that popped into my head early in writing and I kept it.

The tired dwarrows and Kund walked into the mountain just after dawn. It was Balin and Bilbo who greeted them as they wandered the mountain.

“Thorin?” Fíli asked hesitantly.

“Succumbed to gold sickness,” Balin whispered. “It came on fast after he saw the treasury. There is no cure that we know of.”

“The elves remained in Dale to aid them,” Kíli informed the pair.

“If we can cure Thorin, we must ask him to allow them to take shelter in the mountain. There is no way they can reinforce Dale fast enough for the winter,” Freye continued.

“Aye, a sound plan. If he was thinking straight.”

Thorin was in the treasury, looking for the Arkenstone. For now, the Company had hidden in the library to talk strategy. Bilbo pulled Freye into a side room and revealed a glowing gem from his pocket. Freye could feel its energies.

“The Arkenstone,” Bilbo informed her.

“A Laying-Stone?” Freye questioned. “It has all the same marks of one, and if I am correct, it’s a Seed-Stone!” It had been years since she had seen the drawings of them in her old books but it was just as remarkable as the books described.

“I thought as much. The gold sickness, it only developed into this sort of madness after the Arkenstone was removed from the mountain. I've asked Balin about the history of the Line of Durin.”

“It kept the poison away, it made them healthy.”

“Aye.”

“It needs to be replanted. This could save Thorin. But where?” She paused and snapped her fingers. She snagged Bofur and Balin from the library. The pair stared at the Arkenstone. Freye gave them a brief overview of what it actually was. Balin muttered about it explaining a lot before remembering a chamber with plenty of water and actual dirt instead of stone. He drew a rough map out for Bofur who nodded.

“That’ll work,” Freye agreed. The old winter garden, deep in the mountain with crystals that emanated light would be the perfect place for the stone. “Bilbo, you’ll need an offering to Yavanna.”

“My flower crown.” Freye looked at him sharply. “Erebor will be my home now. I would gladly plant my crown with the stone if that meant the mountain would heal.”

“All right. Bofur, can you and Bif get him down there and help dig?” Freye asked.

“We’ll be back before Thorin misses us.” Bofur snagged his cousin and they headed down into the mountain with his mattock.

They found the garden nearly at the bottom of the mountain tunnels, near the furnace and beside the underground river. The river water diverted into a fountain. The base of the fountain was cracked and water seeped out into the dirt around it, keeping it moist. Bofur and Bifur took turns digging the hole, getting it nearly as deep as Bilbo was tall. They lowered the hobbit down into the hole. He nodded at the warmth of the ground, the water on his feet. He put down the crown first. He kissed the Arkenstone for luck and put it within the ring of the crown. Bifur helped him out of the hole and Bofur began filling it in.

“That’ll help, right?” Bofur asked.

“It’ll take a few days for the stone to settle in the mountain proper again.” Bilbo patted the ground. “But it should help. Thorin might need one cognitive recalibration but we can work with that. I don’t know when it will kick in though. Laying-Stones should not be out of the ground long, especially a Seeding-Stone. These are precious gifts from Yavanna and Mahal. It is no wonder the desolation has not healed.”

“Then there is hope,” Bifur replied.

The trio returned to the library just in time for Thorin to barge in and declare they must fortify the wall. Kund, who had gone hunting just outside the gates, came at Freye’s whistle. The wall was created nearly over night. Thorin, still in madness, then sent them into the treasury to find the Arkenstone. Kund let out a growl but followed the group. Freye told him to find shiny stones and drop them at Thorin’s feet. That’s how the White Gems of Lasgalen were found, much to the amusement of Bilbo who looked at the chest Kund plopped in front of Thorin before wagging his tail and running off. Bilbo put the gems where he could find them later. Elrohir had spoken of the gems and Bilbo was certain Thranduil would come for them.

 


	2. 10-11-2941, Erebor

It had been two days since the Arkenstone had been returned to the ground, and while Thorin’s sickness had lessened some and the other dwarf had not succumbed to it, he was still mad. He had been particularly brash when they spotted an elven army around Dale. Balin theorized that they, more than likely, had brought aid for the refugees. Freye pointed out the gems.

Thorin, pacing the treasury and picking up random pieces as he went, had his back to the Company who had stopped to rest and have a late breakfast. Fíli watched his uncle with increasing worry. Balin was trying to come up with ways to bring Thorin back to his senses.

“Fíli, isn’t there a rule about the crown heir taking over for the king if incapacitated? You would have the ability to create ambassadors and negotiators, would you not?” Freye inquired. She glanced at Bilbo and then picked up a decent sized opal from the pile of treasure they sat on. It was about the size of an apple.

“Balin?” Fíli asked.

“Aye, the lassie is correct. Your grandfather had to do it once or twice when we first fled the city. Thráin had yet to regain his senses, what senses he ever did.”

“Oi, Cousin,” Freye called. Bilbo turned around and caught the opal she tossed. She pointed over at Thorin. “How about a round of conkers?”

Bilbo considered his options for a moment. He looked at Thorin, who had bent down to pick up a crown from the floor. It took a moment to calculate the throw and hit Thorin smack in the back of the head. Dwalin caught his shield-brother before he could fall and picked him up.

“The king is incapacitated,” Dwalin announced. “I’ll take him up to our camp. Come on Óin.”

“Prince Fíli, your orders?” Freye inquired.

“Freye you are now negotiator between dwarf, elves, and men. Do what you must. I trust you,” Fíli said. He took her hand and kissed it.

“Of course, sire. I will need the White Gems of Lasgalen. That should get Thranduil off our backs. I will also need a pledge written and signed by the parties able to enforce it that we will provide aid for the Men of Dale. Thorin did promise that.”

“Glóin, Nori, retrieve the gems. Bilbo stashed them in the library,” Balin ordered. “Ori, paper and ink.” The flurry of movement filled the mountain, hope spreading from one Company member to the next. Dori and Bifur rigged Kund's saddle and helped Bofur and Kíli tie down the chest onto it. Freye read over the terms that the princes and Balin had determined before signing it herself. The princes and Balin followed in signing and then gave her a satchel to carry it with. She handed Bofur her sword, the extra weight would hurt Kund.

“If Uncle wakes and we can get him to agree to sheltering the Men, we will send a raven,” Fíli promised. He gave Freye kiss before she mounted Kund and headed for Dale through the hastily knocked hole in their wall.

The Company took to watching over Thorin and appreciating their first break. A raven flew into the room, the same raven that Thorin had ordered to follow Glorfindel and Legolas when they left. It perched beside Kíli.

“News from Legolas?” he asked the bird.

“The Prince of the Mirkwood would like you to know that orcs are coming,” the raven reported. “In great force, from the north. The elves have a head start with their horses but only a few hours.”

“Mahal’s beard,” Dwalin groaned.

“We will have to send word to Freye. She’ll need to negotiate for Thranduil to join our defense,” Fíli said.

“And a letter to Dáin,” Balin interjected.

A groan caught their attention. The group turned to look at Thorin who was slowly sitting up. Bilbo helped him, his hand coming up to cup Thorin’s chin.

“What hit me?” Thorin asked.

“Your beloved hobbit,” Dwalin answered. “Apparently the Shire’s version of conkers really is hitting someone in the head. He hit you with an opal.”

“It also works against madness,” Bilbo defended. “And Freye suggested it.”

“Where is she?” Thorin asked. He had vague recollections of seeing her in the treasury but they were fuzzy.

“We sent her to bargain with Thranduil and Bard in our name,” Kíli informed him. “Fíli declared her the negotiator.”

“Good choice.” Thorin rubbed the back of his head tenderly. “If there is anyone that can get through to that oaf it’s her.” He looked at Bilbo who gave a relieved smile. Thorin pulled the hobbit into his lap and wrapped his arms around him. Bilbo gave him a peck on the cheek and held him back. “Her terms?”

“Aid, defense, the best she can negotiate. We’re about to send another raven. Orcs ride from the north,” Balin explained. “She took Thranduil’s gems to pay him and a signed agreement of aid for Bard.”

“The oath-breaker can have his gems. Lake-town?”

“Widely destroyed, though they did evacuate before thanks to Fíli and Bard. Few casualties. The Master has conveniently disappeared.” Fíli looked away at that comment. “They have taken refuge in Dale, it’s better than the lake edge.”

“Uncle, we must help them,” Fíli pleaded.

“Send the raven,” Thorin instructed. “The Men of Dale are welcome in the Halls of Erebor. While not clean and certainly not warm yet, they are sturdier than those of Dale. Thranduil, if he chooses to stay to defend the mountain, may camp his army outside the gates. I will allow his healers to enter the mountain to treat the wounded and himself for negotiations.”

“Our elves are with the Men,” Kíli butted in. “Including Tauriel, Thranduil’s captain.”

“The elves who have allied us may entered the mountain freely, that includes the red head,” Thorin promised. “Now go send the letter.”

“Yes Uncle.” Kíli ran off to find another raven, the returned one too exhausted. Balin followed to send another raven to Dáin.

“Can someone find my circlet?” Thorin asked. “Silver-thing had my name carved in it. I don’t want that.” He pointed at the raven crown that he had been wearing throughout the past few days. “It reeks of darkness, of sickness.”

“Right away,” Ori said and grabbed Nori. “Come on Brother. You should be able to spot it easily.” Bilbo guffawed and leaned into Thorin.

* * *

 

The raven caught up to Freye as she approached the city. It promised to come to her whistle and left her with her missives. She read them quickly as Kund finished the approach.

An arrow bounced off the stone beside her and she could hear Bard shouting. She looked up to greet him, the elven guard obviously upset. Tauriel was beside him, ranting about how there was clearly not an orc on the back of the warg and even if she didn’t have the position to reprimand him anymore, she would gladly throw him off a wall.

“News from the mountain?” Bard inquired.

“Yes. King Thorin was temporarily incapacitated. Crown Prince Fíli sent me to negotiate and Thorin has woken and supported the decision. The gold sickness is gone now.”

“That is good to hear,” Bard said with a huff.

“Enter, Freye Astaul,” Thranduil said as he stood to the side of the city gates. “We have much to talk about.”

The tent she was led to was enormous and clearly Thranduil’s. She was not impressed by his show. Lady Arwen and her brothers were present. They hugged their dwarf friend. Tauriel stood beside them, not with Thranduil’s guard. When Thranduil attempted to dismiss her, Arwen grabbed her hand and insisted she stay as a part of the Rivendell company. Freye smirked.

“King Bard,” Freye said and brought forth the paper for him, “signed by the princes, Erebor’s chief advisor, and myself. It is binding and Thorin will enforce any agreement we reach. Please read the terms.” Freye then turned to Thranduil. “I know what you want, your highness.”

“Do you, Silver-Tongue?”

Elladan had to be held back by his brother.

“The White Gems of Lasgalen.” The Elven King straightened a bit. “Our friends in Rivendell are far kinder than you, great king. They told of what you desired. That is why you are here, is it not? An army to take back a single chest of gems. I understand you wished them for your wife but diplomacy is the best way, not force.”

“How dare you, you narrow minded little half-breed!”

“Have care of how you speak of half-breeds, King Thranduil,” Arwen spoke up.

“At least he didn’t call me a halfling,” Freye told her. “Now you, great king, are going to listen and wait your turn. You threw a group of travelers into a dungeon for their misfortune on your route. Gandalf the Grey personally guaranteed that road would be safe from the dangers of Mirkwood and if we stayed on the trail we would be fine. Your trail disappears and you lock up a bunch of lost dwarrows because of simple mistake. It is no wonder your son and his captain chose to aid us so readily.

“Onto the more pressing matter. There is an orc army coming from the north. Your son went to scout Gundabad with Glorfindel. They will return the same day as the army, but our raven returned. They are a few weeks out, which means we have the time we need to fortify the mountain. Now, you may turn your little army back to the forest if you truly wish, but if the orcs take Erebor they will certainly come for your halls next. Then they would have control of a great portion of the north, something we cannot let happen.

“The return of your gems has conditions. You must defend the Men of Dale and the Mountain from at least the first wave of orcs. You owe both groups that much. You abandoned King Thrór all those years ago. You did not offer the dwarrows shelter or supplies as they fled. You did not offer them healing. You nearly condemned a whole race to die. That is why they call you oath-breaker; not because you refused to help them battle the dragon, but because you turned your back on people in need. Perhaps if you had aided them, relations would be better. You could have saved lives when Smaug came, those whose injuries claimed them for lack of treatment. Thorin’s call for help was not one of battle but one of aid in saving his people. He called to you for the sake of his people, the women and the children, the sick and the injured, who fled their homes with nothing but the clothes on their back, some not even that. You turned your back on Lord Girion’s people, condemning them to the horrid life in Esgaroth. You turned your back on them then. You owe it to them not to do so now.

“Lord Dáin of the Iron Hills was summoned as I rode here. He might not reach the mountain in time. Would you leave the mountain to be claimed by orcs; the Men of Dale slaughtered in the chaos? Would you condemn those who sought the home they lost? The orcs look for a stronghold in the east. If they took Erebor, then they would have two fronts to attack the Greenwood with. They would kill your people and control the lands from Moria to Erebor. Are you prepared for that fight?

“If you will swear to me, put it on paper, that in the coming days you will provide aid, heal the injured, set up defenses, and fight alongside those who you have a blood debt to, then I will gladly hand over your gems,” Freye said. Bard looked impressed from her rant, but Arwen simply smiled. Her father was right, they were alike.

“Or I could simply take them from you now,” Thranduil countered.

“I will kill you before you can,” Freye promised. Elladan gripped a dagger on his belt. The king and the negotiator stared each other down before Thranduil relented.

“I will move my army into a defensive position around the mountain and treat the wounded. We will fight against the orcs. Then this blood debt will be absolved.” He found parchment and ink and put his terms to paper. Freye reviewed them and approved of them. She had Arwen read them over as well and the Daughter of Rivendell agreed. Freye signed the document and watched Thranduil sign it as well. He had an assistant write up a second copy and then they signed that as well. Thranduil took the copy while he gave Freye the original. She snapped her finger and Kund lumbered into the tent. He sat down and Freye took the chest off his back and told him to go back outside.

“If you defy your word, I will come for your head personally and put your much kinder son on the throne. Am I understood?” Thranduil nodded after a moment and held out his hands. She put the chest in them. He opened it and let out a soft, almost nonexistent sob.

Freye turned to Bard. “What food and supplies come our way, we will share with Dale. With Dáin’s arrival there will be food. We are summoning caravans from Ered Luin as soon as the battle clears. Bilbo thought, Lady Arwen, that we might ask for aid from Rivendell and Lothlorien.”

“I will send messages to my father and grandmother.” Freye nodded and looked back to Bard.

“Prince Fíli has suggested that Erebor cover the cost of food for both the mountain and Dale for this coming winter and the beginning of spring, until Dale can stand on its own economy again. He also suggested that the dwarrows of Erebor provide assistance in rebuilding Dale, both by means of labor and payments of restitution. If we had not come, Lake-town would not have fallen.”

“They are good terms,” Thranduil counseled Bard.

“I agree to them,” Bard said. “We will need them put in paper.” Elladan cleared his throat and held out a piece of parchment. Elrohir scribbled something on another and handed it out.

“Wrote it as you spoke,” the elf confessed. “Elrohir made a copy.” The two reviewed the terms and signed the paper.

“Now then, Thorin sent word that Erebor is open to the Men of Dale. He acknowledges that the coming fight would destroy the Men of Dale. He encourages you to take shelter in the mountain. King Thranduil, any healers seeing to the Men of Dale are welcome inside the mountain as are you for purposes of negotiation and likely a war council.” Freye turned to her friends from Rivendell. “You are welcome in the mountain, friends from Rivendell. Tauriel you as well. Kíli would appreciate your help in reviewing the bows left in the armory. He knows we will need them.”

“I would gladly provide assistance.”

“We still have daylight,” Thranduil remarked as he moved around his desk. “My wagons can move the children and the injured. Lady Freye will you return to the mountain and bring our acceptance?”

“As you wish.”

“Freye.” She turned to bard. “Could your warg carry another rider?”

“With myself? Certainly. Tilda?” Bard gave a nod. “I will watch over her as if she was my own.”

“And that is why I ask.”

“Tauriel will you accompany me as well? The sooner we inspect the armory the better,” Freye said. Tauriel looked at Arwen who gave a nod. Freye smile and beckoned her to follow. Bard called for Tilda and helped her into place in front of Freye on the back of Kund. Tauriel sat behind her, eyes alert. “We will keep an eye out for you.”

“Thank you.”

Kund reached Erebor in record time. Tilda held tight to the saddle and leaned into Freye’s comforting presence. Tauriel watched for orcs.

Nori and Ori were guarding the gate, fresh from giving Thorin his circlet. The door in the gate had been widened slightly, large enough for a wagon to come through. Tilda giggled and waved at the new dwarrows.

“The Men of Dale approach for shelter and Thranduil’s army will form a protective barrier outside the mountain,” Freye told them.

“We will greet them. The others are in the grand kitchen. Bombur cleaned it out while you were gone. Just follow the smell of food,” Nori told her. The three riders, now down from Kund, simply followed the warg who was soon whining at Bilbo for a treat. Bilbo slipped him a piece of lembas.

“Mister Kíli!” Tilda ran across the kitchen and jumped on the dwarf. Kíli caught her with an oomph and chuckled.

“Well hello there little one. Good to see you.”

“What am I? Chopped liver?” Fíli asked. Tilda giggled and hugged the older brother as well. Even Óin got a hug from Tilda. She then caught sight of Thorin and curtsied. Tauriel had already bowed to the king and was now confronted by a young dwarf who was happy to see her.

“Report?” Thorin asked of Freye.

“They have accepted the shelter. I have two agreements as well. We possess the original copies and our allies have the copies.” She presented the agreements to her king. He agreed with the terms and congratulated her on her keen sense of negotiation. “My king, I am sorry for the way we brought you out of your sickness.”

“I am not.” Thorin gave her a sincere smile. “Thank you for restoring me. Bilbo said my descent into madness was tied to the Arkenstone.”

“Aye. Do you remember what I told you of Laying-Stones?” It took Thorin a moment but he nodded in remembrance. “The Arkenstone is a special Laying-Stone, called a Seed-Stone. It causes pure goodness to come from it. It was how Yavanna blessed the lands the Hobbits inhabited. Without it in the ground, darkness grew in the mountain and the land outside died. That is why the desolation was so severe. I had Bilbo bury it in a place Balin deemed suitable for its growth and protection.”

“I really should check on it today,” Bilbo commented. Thorin suggested that he and Freye accompany Bilbo. They left the rest of the Company to start constructing campsites around in the great halls.

The garden was vibrant when they arrived. The light crystals glowed brighter than they had the previous day. Small shoots of plants long dead begun to appear on the surface. In the middle of the garden, beside the fountain, a tower of crystal rose through the garden until it hit the roof and spread out like vines that then turned into branches that hung in the air. On each branch were several small Laying-Stones, all different.

“It grew quickly,” Bilbo said in wonder.

“It came home,” Freye reasoned. She approached a darker stone; it was nearly black. There were no passages written about black stones. As she touched it, she felt a vacuum that sucked out all her unhappiness, all the darkness from her. She cupped the stone with one hand and it released from the branch. There was a small divot in the stone, like a ring. She called Bilbo over. He pulled out the pouch and set it on the stone.

The cousins watched as the ring turned black and sunk into the stone before the stone and ring turned into ash and fell to the ground soundlessly. There was no trace of the ring inside the ashes. The crystals seemed to glow brighter.

“What was that?” Thorin asked.

“Bilbo found it but it was unnaturally dark. It seems the Laying-Stone sensed it and provided a way to rid the world of it.” She looked at Thorin with a bright smile. “No more darkness.” A new stone caught her eye. It hung from one branch but several others hung under it like a cradle ready to catch something much larger. The stone was a mix of brilliant Durin blue and the green of the door to Bag End. She walked over to it. There was a soft inlay on the stone like that of Bilbo’s flower crown. “Bilbo look.” The hobbit approached. He put a finger to the stone and it pulsed. Freye did the same but it remained the same. Thorin put a finger to it and it pulsed. Bilbo put his finger beside Thorin’s and the stone glowed brightly.

“What is it?” Thorin whispered.

“Your child.” He looked at Freye. “Bilbo buried his flower crown with it. There was enough of you on it that it must have taken the two of you and did this. A child by Laying-Stone will take nearly a year to come. You will have a child around Durin’s Day. Congratulations.”

“We will have to fortify this room,” Thorin murmured. “And have a guard in case something happens during the battle.”

“We can ask Sílon,” Bilbo murmured. “And I’m sure Bofur and Bifur could whip up a door.” The expectant fathers kissed the stone before the three left. Bifur and Bofur were more than happy to make doors and Sílon volunteered to start a shift roster with Nodron and Gaerben to watch over the garden. The hope the garden would give the dwarrows was enough to sacrifice their participation on the preparations.


	3. 11-1-2941, Erebor

Upon their entrance into Erebor, the Men of Dale had been tired and hungry but the prospect of proper shelter over the winter and in the coming battle lifted many spirits. They settled down in the great dining halls and the marketplace, clearing debris and setting up camps where they could be done. Freye and Óin took a group of elves, including Falcheth, Deliril, and Arwen, into the healing halls and cleaned it nearly overnight. The elves stocked the potions, herbs, poultices, and tinctures over the next few days; Óin helped with the stocking, instructing the elves on what herbs did not work well on dwarrows. Freye, with the help of Sigrid and Tilda, had rounded up womenfolk to make bandages out of any spare cloth they could find and sterilizing it. Fíli and Kíli took a group of elves and set about cleaning every container in the healing halls so things would be clean and ready for the coming battle. Tauriel could be found wherever Kíli was. More than once, Thranduil and Thorin rolled their eyes at the pair.

Bard took a contingent of men and elves into the land between Erebor and Dale to lay traps. Dwalin and Nori went with them, showing where attacks were likely to come from and noting where traps were put so Dáin’s army would not get caught in them. Thranduil sent for barrels of oil and had them placed where they could be poured into a trench and lit from a distance. Bilbo suggested when it was all said and done that those same trenches could be turned into irrigation channels.

Elladan convinced a raven, with Balin’s help, to carry a letter to Rivendell. Elladan asked his father or Lindir to send aid for the aftermath of the battle. There had been a response back already. A caravan had set out to join them, though Elrond was not among them, it was anticipated he would join them on the road.

Gandalf arrived several days after the bargains had been struck. An elf showed him into the mountain where Ori, the scribe taking over coordinating groups, sent him with a few children to where Thorin and Thranduil were planning. He was deeply surprised at the cooperation between the races. It warmed the wizard’s heart to see it done.

Dáin’s raven reached them the same day Legolas’ raven returned with an update. They both predicted their arrival though Dáin’s arrival would be after the orcs had startled their first assault, or so it was predicted. Legolas and Glorfindel would hopefully reached them before the battle started but Gandalf warned of a second army coming from Dol Guldur. Either way, the armies came up with plans. A bird was sent to Beorn inquiring if the man-beast would assist them. No reply had returned yet but the hunters had noticed the wild animals fleeing across toward the Iron Hills. There was hope that meant Beorn was approaching and just scaring off the wild life.

Food was rationed but no one went hungry. Thranduil had sent for more supplies, including several barrels full of lembas. Bombur, after enlisting some the women from Dale to clean the grand kitchen, was able to cook for all encampments with the added hands. With Bilbo’s help, he stretched every morsel to go as far as it possible could. This improved when, while looking for more places to house people, Bofur and Bifur discovered a cavern full of mushrooms. Bilbo declared them delicacies and showed Bombur and the other cooks how to take one mushroom and make it last for several plates. Thorin gifted Bilbo the newly dubbed “Mushroom Mine” as a courting present. Freye laughed at her cousin’s face as he realized just how much profit he could make by drying the mushrooms and shipping them to the Shire where they would sell for several times their weight in gold. Fíli asked Freye how much one mushroom was normally bought for and nearly fainted at the price.

“Hobbits love their mushrooms,” Freye explained.

When the Company was not helping with one task or another, they searched for other rooms that could be easily cleared and used to house supplies or people. That had caused a few small cave ins, the worst of which was when Freye entered a room not too far from the secret garden and the floor promptly gave way. She had fallen down to the level below, a chamber that led to the underground river. She had slammed into a few crystal spires on the way down, one catching in the billow of her shirt and sliding underneath causing a slice down her back. The others in her exploration group, a couple of men, alerted the Company. Bofur and Bifur found the entrance to the chamber she was in, cut her shirt to get her off the spire, and helped her back to the hallway. The wound would be healed enough for her to help in the battle but she was put on light-duty until then. Another small cave-in had happened when a group attempted to go to some of the old furnaces. One of the Men had broken a few fingers, smashed under a stone, while one of the elves accompanying Bofur and Glóin had been forced to cut most of his hair off after it had been caught under several large boulders that were wedged against the walls and impossible to move without crushing him. Tilda and a few other young children were more than happy to find decorations and cloth to pull the elf's hair back from his face once more.

All this led to the night before the battle. A raven had checked on Legolas and Glorfindel who confirmed their arrival time. Another raven from Dáin confirmed his estimated time. The elves, men, and dwarrpws had sharpened every blade, distributed armor, and received assignments. Then, they took the night to rest. In the case of the dwarrows and men, that meant having a small celebration in case it was their last.

Freye, fresh from a shift in the healing halls where she had been showing a few of the women the differences between different medicines, helped with distributing food at supper until Bilbo dragged her over to the fire near the war table where Thorin, Bard, and Thranduil could be found frequently. Bilbo put a bowl in her hand, a hearty soup, and sat her beside Fíli. Across the fire, Thorin sat with a spot open for Bilbo. Kíli was sprawled against a fallen slab of rock, Tauriel behind him. Óin watched the Company as they ate; he would not have any of them skipping a meal for the sake of another as he had already caught several of them doing when a child asked for more food.

One of the elven healers from Thranduil’s group approached Freye with a piece of lembas. She knelt down beside the dwarrowdam and offered the food.

“One bite fills a Man’s stomach. However, Master Óin and Master Bilbo have informed me that you skipped part of your meal this morning. This is enough for two meals, eat all of it. You will need your energy tomorrow, Miss Freye.”

“Thank you Beriadis.” They had worked together in the healing halls preparing for the wounded. When Beriadis worked with her, she quizzed her on Sindarin with the help of Falceth and Deliril, their near constant working companions.

“Your wound needs to be seen to again. May I?” Beriadis asked. Freye gave a nod. She had, with the help of Dori, found a shirt that buttoned in the back and a loose fitting bustier that did the same. This let Freye remain covered in front while the elf worked on her back. She had walked around once without a shirt and scandalized the Men and Women much to her amusement.

“Easy love,” Fíli said and took her bowl as her hand shook. Beriadis was cleaning the wound and putting a salve over it to seal the long gash once again. She didn’t want to have a bandage on it or put stitches in. The salve was malleable even when set, bending with her as she worked.

“Any sickness?” Beriadis asked.

“None.”

“Good.” The elf secured the shirt and bustier for her. “While this bustier is better than those chest wrappings you had before, it needs to be replaced. It’s not giving you the proper support.”

“I will remember that.” Freye finished the bowl and Beriadis took it from her. She finished the bread as well, leaning into Fíli’s shoulder and smiling.

“I never thought I would see the day elves and dwarves would work together so easily,” Gandalf remarked. He puffed on his pipe just outside of the main ring around the fire.

“It seems our Freye gave King Thranduil quite the tongue lashing, one that Elladan recited for me nearly word for word,” Thorin confessed.

“It was quite memorable. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Thranduil stay silent so long as someone was insulting him.”

“When Erebor is restored, Freye will become an ambassador for our people. I have said it many times and I will stand by it.” Freye snorted and hid her face in Fíli’s shoulder. He laughed and kissed her hair. Thorin pulled Bilbo into his lap, the hobbit leaning into his embrace. Bard and his children sat on the stone with Tauriel, though Tilda and Bain sat before it with Kíli. The royals of Dale stuck to the familiar faces in the mountain, which meant Tilda and Sigrid were almost always around either the Princes of Durin or Freye. Bain had taken to following Dwalin around and asking for sword lessons. The Company declared it was adorable. Gruithon offered his services to Bain but the lad insisted he wanted to learn the dwarven weapons first as that would be the weapon he carried on the battlefield while running injured back to the mountain. Secretly, most of the Company realized Dwalin enjoyed having an apprentice of sorts. He took to it with ease.

Instruments keyed up somewhere in the hall. There had been some found in the ruins of Esgaroth, in Dale, and in Erebor itself. Thorin had found the harp he played as a child --found after an expedition into the royal chambers, mostly intact, but holding very powerful memories-- and took to playing it around the fires at night, a way to calm the people. A few songs struck up from time to time before the players fell silent for a time. Bilbo and Bofur had found flutes and together played a merrier tune. Fíli and Kíli joined in with fiddles that had been found --neither Thorin or Balin had the heart to tell the boys the fiddles had been the ones a younger Frerin had practiced on.

"If we die tomorrow, we may as well make tonight the best we can,” Thorin said as he surveyed the Company. Fíli tossed the fiddle to a Man he knew played and he picked up the tune to accompany Kíli while he played. The two picked up a new song and Fíli rose. He held his hands out to Freye.

“Dance with me, my love? We may not have the chance again.”

“Fee.”

Bilbo cleared his throat, causing Fíli to look at him, and said, “Fíli, if you wish to dance with her that is fine. Just away from the fire and do not circle one.”

“Why?”

“Old Hobbit marriage tradition left over from the Wandering Days,” Freye explained. “It’s still recognized as there are still couples who are forced to elope.” Fíli paused for a moment before looking at his uncle. Fíli’s hand was around Freye’s and holding it firmly. The dwarven king looked at his nephew and his love before looking at his own hobbit.

“We will hold dwarven weddings by next Durin’s Day,” Thorin announced. “But a Hobbit one now, I will allow. If Bilbo will do the same courtesy to me.”

“Thorin, so soon?”

“We may all die tomorrow,” Thorin whispered. He cupped Bilbo’s cheek. “And if we do, I will have it known that my sister-son had a wife, one brave enough to stand by him in battle. And I had a husband, one I am truly not worthy of but that I love with my whole being.” Thorin looked at Kíli who was staring at the ground. “And that my youngest sister-son found his One, and that they are to court when the battle ends.” Kíli snapped his head up. Tauriel stared dumbly as well. “I will not deny you your One, my sister-son.”

“Thank you, Uncle.”

“Thorin, we don’t have flower crowns or a marriage sash!” Bilbo objected.

“Metal crowns would work, yes? Bit of Hobbit, bit of Dwarf,” Kíli reasoned as he jumped to his feet.

“I suppose,” Bilbo conceded.

“Come on Ori, Fíli. I remember seeing where Kund had put a bunch of crowns. Bain want to give us a hand?”

“Of course!”

Fíli turned to Freye. Her eyes grew wide as he knelt before her.

“Will you marry me tonight? In the ancient tradition of your grandfather’s people?” Fíli asked softly. “I know we have not courted long.”

“Oh shut up you silly dwarf.” She kissed him. “Go with your brother.” Fíli grinned and ran off after the others.

Someone cleared their throat. The group turned toward the war table where Thranduil approached from. He pulled his magnificent robe off, the silver glistening on one side and the red on the other.

“I believe the sleeves of this could be turned into sashes if Master Baggins gives someone the correct measurements.”

“Thranduil,” Thorin started.

“Your envoy spoke of the debt I owe your people. To destroy my robe to allow a celebration would be an honor.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo spoke.

“Master Bilbo, the measurements?” Sigrid asked as she took the robe. Tilda snagged a pair of scissors from Dori and hurried to her sister’s side.

“Palm’s width, long enough to tie wrists together for dancing.” Sigrid nodded and took the scissors from her sister.

“Lassie, come here.” Bofur’s words brought Freye back to reality. “We have to put some more braids in your hair. Tilda? Do you have those pretty beads from the other day?” Bofur asked. Tilda nodded and brought out a pouch. She gave it to Bofur who ruffled her hair. “That a girl. Now drag Bilbo over too. Wouldn’t be right for our cousins to marry without a full set of family braids and deed braids!”

Freye sat in front of Bofur and Bifur, the two craftsmen working seamlessly together to make braids and then style her hair. The beads shone like little drops of colored water in her hair. Bombur, whose experience with short hair due to his twelve children, did Bilbo’s hair. The hobbit put his hand to the beads in a slight bit of shock.

While they worked, Dori snagged Tilda and had her help him find a proper dwarven dress for Freye. They found one and Dori made a few quick alterations to it. The pair dragged her off to a room with Beriadis following, carrying a proper bustier also hastily altered. Sigrid, who had finished with the sashes, joined them and marveled at the design of the bustier. It supported Freye in all the right places for the hasty alterations the elf had done. Beriadis promised to show them how to make one after the battle.

Emerging back into the hall, they were met with silence. The Men had heard quickly what was happening. The elves did as well. Gandalf watched the Company as they prepared for the simple ceremony.

Fíli had been cleaned up, by Balin if the rag in the older dwarf’s hand was anything to go by. Dwalin was adjusting Thorin’s clothes and wiping a smudge of dirt from his face. Glóin was taking care of Bilbo.

Kíli held an armful of circlets and tested them one after another on Bilbo’s head in an attempt to find the proper fit. The young dwarf prince let out a cheer when a mithril circlet fit perfectly. Thorin, who had given Bilbo a chainmail shirt of mithril earlier in the day, found it perfect for his hobbit. Thorin used a different crown than the one he wore for being king. It was instead a simple crown made of silver. Fíli had a soft rose gold crown on his golden locks and held a few more. He approached Freye and looked at the crowns.

Tilda sidled up next to him and pointed at one half way down his arm. “That one." The circlet was a soft steel blue color.

The little girl was right. It fit atop Freye’s head perfectly. Fíli handed the other crowns to Bain who placed them with the other rejected crowns. Freye took hers off and placed it Fíli’s hand. She took Fíli’s and held it tight. Bilbo was doing the same with Thorin before quickly telling the musicians the type of music that should be played. Kíli and Bofur joined the musicians, grinning at their family.

The two pairs stood beside each other. Bilbo placed Thorin’s circlet on the dwarf’s head and Freye mirrored with Fíli. The dwarves reciprocated the action, their fingers brushing beads as they lowered their hands. Bilbo told Thorin how to tie the sash around Fíli and Freye’s wrists before looking to their own sash.

“Normally it is who has most seniority in the group,” Bilbo explained. “That’s why I had you do theirs.” Gandalf began to get up, but Bard cleared his throat, stepping up next to them.

“As it has been pointed out multiple times, I am the heir of Girion and the reluctant King of Dale.” The Men of Lake-town laughed at that and a few called out with cheers to their king. “And as Thranduil gave his gift of sashes, I would be honored to tie the knot.”

“We would be honored if you did,” Thorin replied. He handed the sash to Bard who listened to Bilbo’s instructions carefully. Once the knot was in place, Bard stepped back. The music started.

Freye and Bilbo had done this dance many times in their youth with other Shirelings. It had become a game for the children, dancing around something round while pretending to marry each other. The children were taught the steps from their first celebration in the Shire, a hold over tradition that saw to the continuation of their culture if the Wandering Days ever fell on them again.

The two of hobbit kind led their dwarrows slowly at first with solid and assured steps. The dwarrows picked up quickly and soon they were dancing around the fire quickly, laughing and smiling away. A cheer started in the crowd and followed them around the fire. As the song neared an end, Freye and Fíli separated at her word and passed their bound hands over the fire. The fire surged for a moment, barely grazing the knot between them, before dying down. Fíli caught Freye on the other side, pulling her close against him. Thorin and Bilbo did the same, the fire surging up again, and then Thorin pulled Bilbo to his side. The music stopped and all waited with bated breath.

“I present to you,” Gandalf said in a voice that resonated off the walls and sent chills down spines, “King Thorin Oakenshield and Prince Consort Bilbo Baggins, as well as Crown Prince Fíli and Princess Freye. Long may they live!”

“Long live the Line of Durin!” someone shouted, and it was not a dwarf.

“Long live the King! Long live the Princes! Long live the Princess!” The cheers continued. Kíli put his instrument down and slapped his brother on the back before kissing his sister-in-law on the cheek.

Thorin visibly paled across the fire when Kíli laughed, “Just wait until Amad finds out.” Well, they would deal with that another day.


	4. 11-2-2941, Erebor

It was early morn, before the sun had risen, when Thorin sent for Freye. The dwarf stood at the war table talking with Bard and Thranduil about final preparations. They had sent ravens out for updates moments earlier and one had returned with word from an elf scout. Freye bowed to her king.

“One of the elf scouts reported tremors,” Thorin informed her. “The most likely explanation is wereworms which means that first army will reach us before the northern. I need you to ride Kund east toward the Iron Hills. Dáin should not be far but he needs to increase his speed. Tell him to push the army or have the war-rams ride ahead if he must. We’ll need them. Kíli!” The young dwarf ran over with a glimmering metal shirt with leather on top of it. He had another shirt as well and was wearing one himself. “Take off that simple armor. We’ll give it to a child of Men. They will need less armor than you.” Freye undid the straps and buttons. Kíli helped her with a few on the back and she placed it on the table. “The mail is mithril. We found enough for the Company and Bard. The rest of the Men are being outfitted with dwarven mail. But this,” he put his hand to the mail, “do not take off. I would see you alive before the day’s end, mabannamûna.”

“Of course, nu'adad.” Kíli nodded at the fit and ran off to help Balin into his own mail. The older dwarf was having a bit of a time trying to grab a few of the straps to tighten the fit. Thorin pulled a sheathed dagger from his belt and held it out to her.

“This was a gift from Dáin many years ago. He will know you are my messenger. If you can, use the rams to outflank the enemy.”

“Yes, nu'adad.” A smile tugged at his weary face. He pulled her in and put his forehead to hers. “I’ll come back, promise.” He patted her hard on the back.

“Aye, I know you will. Just come back as whole as you can.” She nodded and ran off toward the gate.

Kund was there, waiting with his saddle on thanks to Fíli. Bofur stood beside him. Bofur grabbed his cousin and pulled her in for a touch to the head.

“You see that you come back, yah hear? Brynye’d have my head. Promised to look after you and all.”

“I’ll come back Bof. Take care of Bif and Bom while I’m gone. I want to meet the rest of the family and have a proper celebration with everyone.”

“Of course, darlin’.” Bofur gripped her shoulder before releasing and walking away. In his eyes, his cousin was too young to fight but he knew better than to tell her that.

Fíli pulled her close and kissed her. It was a kiss that promised more, much more. They rested their heads together, hands gripping each other’s arms with dear life.

“You come back to me,” he whispered. “Haven’t even consummated our marriage yet. Haven’t seen the beautiful children we might have. Ones with your kind eyes and wavy locks and my blond hair.”

“We will have the days,” Freye promised. She tightened her hold. “When we meet again, you better be whole. I won’t forgive you if you die.” He nodded against her. “Will you watch Bilbo for me? Trouble seems to find my cousin and I made a vow I would protect him on our journey. In my place, will you?”

“As much as I can. I lead a flanking group of Men with Kíli. Bilbo is to help move the injured in from the battlefield. He’s rather good at dodging trouble in a warzone. Uncle does not want him on the front lines.”

“You know as well as I that Bilbo will find himself on those lines, fighting alongside the Company, even if he was only going to get a soldier.” Freye reached up into her hair and undid her hairpiece, her courting gift. She used it to tie back Fíli’s hair and kissed it for good luck.

“Freye.”

“I will return for that and for you.” She gave him another swift kiss before mounting Kund and driving him from the mountain. She refused to look back, to where she knew Fíli stared after her. She would not.

Fíli watched her go that was true. He swallowed his worry and straightened his shoulders. He would make her proud.

The war horn sounded shortly after mid morning. Thorin met with the heads of the three kingdoms and the Company at the gates. Across from them, the hills gave way to a wereworm. It fell to the side, dead blessedly. The army began to emerge from the tunnel.

“Kíli!” Thorin shouted up to where his nephews waited with horses to ride with their battalion.

The dwarf took up the horn gifted to him by an archer of Thranduil’s army and gave a sharp blow. The muddied area where the trenches lay lit up bright as a summer day as a squad’s worth of flaming arrows hit oil. The ground caught fire and the first of the orcs were burned to a crisp.

“Waste of fuel,” someone commented.

“Better our oil than a wave of our army,” Thorin tossed back. “Let us pray that it gives us more time.”

The fires were slowly smothered out by the orcs, their trolls sacrificed to form bridges. That was a blessing, the great brutes falling to their fiery death instead of slaughtering the armies.

Thranduil signaled his archers with one hand. Arrows rained down from the sky, striking their marks with elven precision. Elladan and Elrohir stood among the archers, spare quivers full of Freye and Kíli’s arrows hung on tree limbs embedded in the ground. Tauriel stood beside Kíli, her bow at rest to conserve the precious resource.

The army continued to march, losing more orcs to elven arrows and eventually a few of men. Thorin prepared to give the signal to march, Bard at his side and Thranduil mounting his elk, when a new war horn sounded. This one came from the east and was accompanied by the beating of hooves.

 

In the nearly four months since Kund had joined her, the warg had grown to proper adult proportions. He was still a little lean but very strong. He easily carried her at full speed across the lands between Erebor and the Iron Hills. He never faltered. He warned Freye they were approaching someone by slowing down and trotting over the rise of the next hill.

There was the dwarf army, led by a dwarf on a pig, marching toward the mountain. An arrow soared toward Kund by Freye knocked it aside with her sword while shouting in Khuzdul for the idiot to watch where he was shooting. A sharp command paused the army and the war-pig trotted up to her with a great redheaded dwarf on its back. Freye dismounted and gave a dwarven bow as the dwarf did the same.

“Are you Man, Dwarf, or some matter of other creature? You wear braids of a dwarf but lack a beard.”

“I am of a line of dwarrows that were once lost and whom gained hobbit blood in their line. I bring news from Erebor for Lord Dáin of the Iron Hills. I assume that is you.” She took out the dagger and showed it to the dwarf lord. “Thorin said this would show you I am his messenger.”

“Indeed, it does,” he agreed. “My sign of loyalty to my kin. Speak, messenger of the king.”

“The enemy is approaching through tunnels created by wereworms, the vibrations have been picked up by the elven scouts. My king has asked me to rally your rams to lead a charge if you cannot hasten your full army. Even with elves and Men fighting beside us, we will fall without your aid sooner than your expected time.”

“And who, lassie, are you that he would trust you with such a task? You ride a warg, the steed of our enemy. What makes my cousin trust you so much?” Freye put the dagger back and drew forward her marriage braids and the last braids that had been put in by Thorin himself, that of the Line of Durin and Princess of Erebor late last night after disappearing in the direction of the royal chambers and returning with a handful of beads. The marriage bead she wore was simple, a family heirloom Thorin discovered in his father’s old rooms. It would serve as their braids until Fíli and Freye had time to forge their own. “Durin’s braids and the braid of the royal family.”

“Aye. I am Princess Freye, wife of Crown Prince Fíli, and cousin to the Prince Consort Bilbo Baggins.”

“Aye, that would do it. I look forward to learning this tale later. Thorin, dashat!” A war-ram rode up with a young dwarf astride. “You will lead the foot soldiers at twice the pace. The rest of the war-rams will go with me. My cousin needs us sooner than planned.”

“Of course, Adad.” Dáin shouted at his men and the war-rams hurried to meet them. Freye and Dáin leapt onto the back of their mounts.

Dáin cast a glance at the warg beside him and asked, “A warg?”

“Adopted Fíli and me. Loyal to a fault my Kund.”

“You’ll fit right in, Lassie.”

With another shout from their lord, the war-rams began the hard ride back to the mountain. Freye signaled when they were close. Dáin sent a signal to one of the horn blowers. The dwarrows heard the call to arms and took up their blades. They charged over the hilltop to see the battle barely beginning. Dáin cheered, happy to have not missed the battle, and followed Freye who led them around the traps and flanked them.

The Elves quickly joined the fray, as did the Men. Kund fought beside his master as they tackled whatever orc was dumb enough to approach them. She caught a glimpse of her husband across the battlefield. Tauriel was not with them but further back in the battle defending a group of women that were moving a group of injured soldiers from the field.

Balin was the first to come across Freye in the battlefield, his hammer slamming into an orc coming behind her.

“Lassie!”

“Hello Master Balin!” she called cheekily.

“Thorin, Dwalin, and the Princes made a run for Ravenhill before the latest raven from Legolas. The other army will be upon Ravenhill soon. They’ll be overrun. I think Bilbo went to warn them, but without a steed, he’ll not make it in time.”

“I’m going.”

“Be careful.”

Kund came at her whistle. She mounted the warg and battled a line to Tauriel, grabbing the elf by her outstretched hand.

“I lost sight of them,” Tauriel said.

“I know where they’re going. Keep the orcs off our back.” Tauriel gave her a nod and started firing again.

They caught up to Bilbo halfway to the outpost. Tauriel, gripping the saddle with one hand, reached out and caught Bilbo by the scruff of his jacket. The hobbit slid into place between the two women.

“Good to see you!” he shouted. They made it up over the edge of the hill. “Good Yavanna, are those the boys?”

Indeed, they were. Two dwarven shapes went ahead to Ravenhill, likely to scout. Azog had not been seen yet in the battle, he likely laid in wait.

“Tauriel! Coat these arrowheads with this,” Freye shouted. She took two arrows from her quiver and the vial hidden in her bustier. “Do it now!” The elf had just released the cap when Kund stopped at the split staircase. Freye lowered Bilbo to the ground and took the now poisoned arrows back from Tauriel.

“Warn Thorin,” Freye ordered. “We’ll get the boys.” She put the arrows through her hair for easy access, not caring if they sliced her hair. Freye urged Kund forward, Bilbo’s shouts of protest behind her.

A great sound rang through the air. Kíli emerged from the bottom of the town, unharmed but clearly looking for his brother. Azog came out of the top, Fíli in his grasp. The dwarf was disarmed and struggling in the orc’s grasp.

“Grab him when he falls,” Freye shouted at Tauriel. “Kund, fetch!” Freye jumped from the warg and slid across a stone, bringing one arrow up to fire and aiming. She let it loose, the arrow piercing a bundle of nerves that controlled the arm. Azog roared, his hand going lax and releasing the prince. Tauriel caught him as he fell shouting.

Kíli reached Kund before Freye could. He wrapped his brother in his arms and knocked their heads together even as Azog screamed in his death throws. Freye slid her bow on her back as she walked closer, before handing her sword over to Fíli to use in place of his own. He pulled her against his chest, one arm around her firmly while the other held the sword. His lips grazed her forehead.

“Thank you my dear." She simply shot him a grin while taking out her axes, while the one remaining arrow stayed in her hair.

There was an impact behind them. The white orc had fallen from the battlements, his mouth foaming red and skin inflamed with burst blood vessels. Tauriel went over with her swords and sliced the orc’s head off for good measure.

Thorin’s shouts for them to return were barely audible over the winds. The four were in enemy territory and quickly surrounded. Kund tore into any warg that approached them. Soon the wargs ran scared, never before witnessing a warg that would protect its rider so fiercely. The orcs were another story, eager to redeem their leader. They fell to practiced blades and arrows more accurate than their own.

“Thorin! Watch out!”

It was not Bilbo or Dwalin shouting but the Prince of Mirkwood. The elf, newly arrived and battling beside Glorfindel, shot an orc approaching the king but another orc was approaching faster. Legolas had no arrows left and Tauriel was on her last few. Dropping her axes to the rock in front of her, Freye pulled her bow from her back, took the arrow from her hair, and notched it. The son of Azog would share his father’s fate. She pierced the orc, who loomed over Thorin on the icy river, just to the left of his spine, nearest the heart. The orc stumbled back, fingers clenching at his throat as red foam came up. His skin burst with blood. She slid her bow back in place and picked up her axes.

“What was on those arrows?” Tauriel shouted as she ripped her blades from a fallen orc.

“Gift from Elrond.”

Freye saw Fíli growing overwhelmed, the distinct disadvantage of fighting with a blade he did not know showing. She shielded him from the next blow, taking the club to her legs, and threw a dagger into the orc’s eyes before collapsing on the fallen stones. Its howls were cut short as Fíli cut off its head.

On the ice, Bilbo drove his blade into an orc's chest. Thorin was behind him, fighting off several orcs, while Dwalin was further away against a group. The hobbit spun to face the orcs after Thorin just in time to see the last one knocked Thorin back over a stone, the dwarf's chainmail loosened and sliding up to reveal unprotected skin.

The blade had barely pierced Thorin when Bilbo knocked the orc over and stabbed him repeatedly in the chest. The hobbit scampered over to the King Under the Mountain, hands shaking as he cupped Thorin's face.

"Stay with me," Bilbo ordered.

"It's a scratch," Thorin promised. A sad smile crossed the younger's face. "The boys? Freye?"

"Alive, all alive. They're with Tauriel and Legolas. Safe," Bilbo promised. He didn't know if that was true but damn it he hoped it was. "Just stay with me, okay?"

"Always."

The battle quieted. Fíli turned toward Freye to see her hand reaching toward her bleeding wound. The club had broken her leg, the bone piercing through the flesh. He could see the onset of shock setting in.

“TAURIEL!”

Fíli was at Freye’s side before another orc could lay a hand on her. He took her hand in his, the other hand coming up to cup the back of her head. Tauriel approached swiftly, Kíli running off to help Legolas with a few stragglers.

“This needs more healing than what can be given on the battlefield, but I will field dress it. I need something for the splint.” Fíli pulled his mail up and took out two hidden daggers, the gifts Freye had forged for him. Tauriel accepted the daggers and tore bandages from her own clothes. Freye bit into Fíli’s shoulder, the leather and mail cushioning the screams as Tauriel set her leg and treated it the best she could. The bleeding was slowing, certainly nearly stopped. The few herbs Freye had on her person helped with that. Tauriel finished tightening the bandages just as Kíli shouted for Tauriel. Legolas let out a call for him to hurry up. The Elven Prince had, evidently, lost his balance while dispatching an orc and currently hung off the side of the cliff, one dagger driven into the stone to keep him from falling and the other laying on the stone above him. Tauriel gave them a meaningful look before leaving.

“Thorin, we should check on him,” Freye said trying to pull herself up by using Fíli. He shook his head and pushed her back down.

“No, you need to stay still until help arrives. I won’t lose you to a leg wound.”

“He was in danger, Fee. What if he was hurt?”

That had her husband. Fíli helped her to her feet and provided a shoulder to lean on while they limped over the river.

Thorin was laid out on a stone with Bilbo kneeling over him. Even from a distance, they could see his pale stomach, where the mail had jerked up as he slid across the ground. A blade, orcish but not tainted with poison if the lack of blackness was anything to go by, stuck out of his gut. Thorin’s hands were cupping Bilbo’s face while he frantically looked for help.

“Tauriel!” Freye screamed. Dwalin was running down the steps. “Dwalin, get Tauriel. She’s at the cliff side helping Kíli. I need her help.”

The dwarf said nothing as he ran off. Fíli put Freye down beside the king. She pulled out her little pouch and shook the herbs out. She sorted them, finding the ones she needed and tossing them into the pouch. She crushed them inside the pouch and handed it to Fíli.

“Water, soak the herbs just enough that they’re a mash.” He hurried to the nearest ice crack and did just that. He returned with it, pressing it into a paste at her command. She took Bilbo’s waistcoat, and Mahal’s beard why was he wearing that on the battlefield, and ripped it into ribbons for bandages.

“Fíli, I have to do this without Tauriel else Thorin will die. I have to slow the bleeding. When I start the incantation, remove the blade.”

“Freye.”

“Please don’t argue.” They shared a look before the blond nodded. He grabbed the handle and waited for his wife to start. Once the words began to flow, he slid the blade out. Freye quickly applied the paste and bound the wound. Her hands were glowing softly, the magic working. While her words were in Sindarin, magic was accessible to all if you knew the paths. Admittedly, Óin had told her once that dwarven spells were used more for setting bones or fixing burns, things associated with blacksmithing. The elves knew all types of magic and their words could be used by others. Freye thanked Elrond in her mind and Lady Arwen for the added practice she had given.

“What are you doing?” Tauriel demanded as she slid across the ice and fell to her knees beside them. “In her condition, a healing spell? This could kill her.” The dwarrowdam was not paying attention, too far gone in the spell. Kund appeared at their side with Kíli and Legolas.

“She had no choice,” Fíli whispered.

The incantation trailed off and Tauriel pulled the dwarrowdam away from the king. Thorin’s color was improving but Freye had slipped into unconsciousness. Legolas whistled and waved his arms to catch the attention of the approaching eagles. Two of the great birds landed before them.

“They need healers immediately, likely Lady Arwen and King Thranduil. Onto the eagles with them,” Tauriel ordered.

It took both Legolas and Dwalin to lift Thorin onto one eagle with Bilbo climbing on behind him. Orcrist was back in its sheath safely with Thorin. Fíli and Kíli put Freye onto the other eagle and her worried husband climbed on behind her, arms firmly around her.

“Kund, Kíli will take care of you,” Fíli promised the warg. The warg whined, his eyes on his beloved masters. Glorfindel crested the top of the hill, sword drawn and bloody. He cleaned it as he walked up, surveying the group for any other injuries.

“I’ll find your swords!” Kíli shouted after his brother as the eagles soared. Tauriel and Dwalin rolled their eyes but helped him look for them.

Kund had become an excellent tracker and locator over the weeks. When Kíli made a motion to his sword and then to Legolas' dual swords, Kund realized he meant Fíli's blades. He loped across the ice and up the tower. They found the weapons near the top of the tower, hastily ripped from Fíli before the attempted execution. Dwalin picked up the swords, inspecting them for damage. Kíli and Tauriel gathered the knives while Legolas watched for dangers.

"He'll feel better with them," Kíli insisted. "Let's head down. Take out the stragglers."

There was something cathartic about killing the orcs they came across, perhaps it was revenge or vengeance; either way, no sword or bow hesitated to deliver the lethal blows.

Meanwhile, the eagles drifted into the heart of the camp where a triage was set up. Gandalf, towering as he was above most Men and certainly the many dwarrows, hurried toward an area to clear a place for the eagles. Gandalf instructed Óin to find their best healers as the ablebodies climbed off the eagles and others stepped forward to help the injured off.

“Stand back, Mithrandir,” a calm voice spoke. The group turned to see Elrond and Galadriel approaching, Arwen not far behind them. A disembarking eagle spoke of the two elves arrival. “You called for aid, Mithrandir. We come ahead of the Rivendell caravan. Now let us see to them.”

“My lady.”

Two stretchers were brought, and the injured dwarrows were put upon them. Óin directed them to two of the operating rooms in the healing halls. The elves gave the spouses of the injured encouraging looks before disappearing behind the door.

Bofur approached the worried pair after nearly an hour of waiting. He cleared his throat and said, “I hate to ask you both this, but we need help pulling in the wounded. Thranduil wants them in tents or Erebor before dark. Will you join us?”

Their hesitation was expected but they agreed. Working would certainly be better than waiting for news and staring a hole in the wall.

 

Lord Elrond, with the help of Falceth and Deliril, had seen to Thorin while Galadriel and Arwen saw to Freye. It took several hours to stop the bleeding, treat the wounds proper, and nudge the healing process along. Lady Galadriel and Arwen had gone to find members of the Company to watch over the pair now that they were moved to the royal quarters, rooms that had been quickly cleaned and purified by a few elven healers. It would be best for their recovery if they were not near the healing halls and increase the risk of infection. Elrond was currently adjusting the blanket covering the king.

“Lord Elrond.” He looked up to see Thorin awake, if barely. The king fought off the sleep and cleared his throat. “Where are we?”

“Your old bed chambers if I am not mistaken. I had a group of elves clean rooms in the royal wing. The risk of infection decreases by simply being away from the other injured. I had them put your things in a chest, the same in the room for Freye. The dust would have made you both ill.”

“Thank you. Freye…she healed me but she did not look well. Where is she?”

“The next room, your brother’s room if I read the inscription correct. Beriadis sits with her now, until Fíli returns to her side.”

“Thank you for everything you did. I know you did not approve of our quest.”

“I understand the need for home. Besides that, I believe the orc army proved Gandalf correct in his fears. Between orcs and dwarves, I would much rather have dwarves in the mountain. Between you and me? I would rather have you on the throne than your cousin, which was the fearful vision I saw before your arrival in Rivendell. Something changed that.” They shared a knowing look. “I look forward to seeing Erebor restored to her proper splendor.”

The door bounced off the wall as it was thrown open. A hobbit ran across the room and onto the bed, hands wrapping around Thorin’s in desperation.

“Don’t do that to me again. I cannot lose you. Not with what we have at stake.”

“I promise, ghivashel.” He kissed Bilbo’s forehead.

Elrond left Bilbo with instructions to tend to Thorin and promised one of his children would come aid him in a few hours to change the bandages. He then left them, going to the other room. Fíli sat on the bed, laying beside her and with a hand on her heart. He could feel the beat of her heart. It was reassuring. Kíli and Tauriel stood off to the side watching.

“When will she wake?” Fíli asked. His voice sounded broken.

“I am not sure. Her wounds were taxing on their own before the spell. That spell is meant to be used only when at full health. It will be days; that much I am certain of.” Fíli gave a soft nod and kissed his wife’s cheek.

Elrond watched them a moment longer before offering Tauriel a place in Rivendell if she so chose. Falcheth and Deliril had informed him of Tauriel’s banishment from the Mirkwood for defying Thranduil. He knew the other elf lord would remove the banishment but that certainly damaged the bond between the Silvan elf and the king.

Tauriel promised to consider it before Elrond left to address the other injured. It would be a long recovery for many.

Before he left the room, he asked after any of their injuries. Tauriel had seen to the wounds on Kíli but not Fíli. The blond said his head ached a good bit, a strong hit to the back of the head, but he would shake it off by morning, he swore it. Elrond shared a look with Tauriel giving silent instructions to watch him closely. Head wounds were notoriously unpredictable.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I hear one gripe about Freye and Thorin being the only injured parties, listen up! Everyone has little injuries, just not holy crap ones. Even then, there will be one more whose injuries were hinted here but will be revealed next installment (Of Times of Peace). Speaking off, that will likely be a chapter by chapter since I haven't finished the damn thing. I will upload as a review what is actually finished but if you have anything bugging you that you think I left out, mention it.


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